


Thirty Pieces of Silver

by BisexualHannibalLecter



Series: The Truth and All of Its Consequences [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Angst, Betrayal, Biblical References, Dark Abigail Hobbs, Dark Will Graham, Declarations Of Love, Dinner, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hopeful Ending, Hurt No Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Reunions, Season/Series 02, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26585848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisexualHannibalLecter/pseuds/BisexualHannibalLecter
Summary: There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.—Friedrich NietzscheAs soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him. So Jesus told him, “What you are about to do, do quickly.” But no one at the meal understood why Jesus said this to him.—John 13:27-28Will joins Hannibal for dinner, intent on gaining a confession. The truth he earns is not the one he expected.
Relationships: Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: The Truth and All of Its Consequences [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1933906
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120
Collections: Hannibal Bingo





	Thirty Pieces of Silver

**Author's Note:**

> So this is set in an AU where the FBI has been in on Will and Jack's plan to catch Hannibal from the start and the "Last Supper" scene from Mizumono is a set-up to gain a confession from Hannibal via Will. Enjoy the angst :)
> 
> Filled the “Momentary Reverie” square on my Hannibal Bingo!

Dinner was a dark and quiet affair that night, largely uneventful, even more so than most evenings Will spent with Hannibal. Will didn’t attempt to change the atmosphere, not wanting to tip Hannibal off. The last thing he needed was the other man catching on to his plan and making a run for it.

It seemed, however, that Hannibal planned on running regardless.

“We could disappear now,” he says softly. “Tonight.”

Will locks eyes with Hannibal, genuinely surprised by the sudden offer. There’s a profound sadness in his eyes that Will has never witnessed, and it suddenly dawns on him that Hannibal  _ knows _ . Will doesn’t speak, waiting for Hannibal to continue.

“Feed your dogs,” Hannibal suggests. “Leave a note for Alana, and never see her or Jack again. Almost polite.”

Will’s mouth twitches and he feels tears begin to form. He wills them away, breaking eye contact with Hannibal and forcing a smile.

Will takes a moment to think about Hannibal’s offer. He imagines himself saying  _ yes, yes, yes, _ over and over, not caring about dinner as he gets up from his chair. He imagines writing the note as Hannibal prepares for their departure, his inelegant scrawl on Hannibal’s lovely stationery, leaving his final message for Jack and Alana. He imagines the tears falling down his cheeks as he hugs each of his dogs one last time, imagines how appreciative he would be of Hannibal’s patience in that moment. He imagines a silent drive to the airport, and a pair of first-class seats to God knows where. He imagines taking Hannibal’s hand, lacing their fingers on the armrest.

Will could laugh. He could cry. He could live in this fantasy forever. But he knew he couldn’t make it a reality. Neither he nor Hannibal was capable of conforming to each other’s ideals. This reverie would only ever remain in his mind, a lovely imago of what could have been.

Finally, Will says, “Then this would be our last supper.”

Hannibal nods slightly. “In this life,” he agrees. He regards the feast laid out before them. “I served lamb.”

“Sacrificial,” Will offers.

Hannibal pauses, looking downward but in Will’s direction. “I don’t require a sacrifice,” he says. “Do you?”

Will swallows. “I need to know,” he says. “I need to hear the words from your lips. I need the truth, Hannibal. The whole truth.”

Hannibal locks eyes with Will again, and something about his posture seems resigned. It makes Will’s heart squeeze uncomfortably in his chest, but he can’t pinpoint why.

“Very well,” Hannibal finally says, the intimate tone of his voice gone, giving way to something that sounds like glass on the verge of shattering. “I am the Chesapeake Ripper. I am the Copycat Killer. I framed you for the murders of Cassie Boyle, Abigail Hobbs, Georgia Madchen, among others. I also framed Frederick Chilton.” Hannibal rises from his chair and walks over to Will, whose fingers clench around the handle of the knife beside his plate. Hannibal only offers him a bitter smile as he kneels by Will’s chair. “Abigail is alive,” he says. “In a house by the sea. She is waiting for you.”

_ You _ , he says. Not  _ us. _ Hannibal knows where this night is taking them, and he has surrendered himself to Will’s plans.

Will’s fingers release the knife and his eyes widen. “Abigail,” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes once more. “She’s… No. No, you killed her. You shoved her ear down my throat.”

Hannibal reaches up slowly, the back of his hand caressing Will’s cheek. Will tries his best not to lean into the touch.

“I only needed to make it look as if she died,” Hannibal explains. “I could not protect the old Abigail. None of us could. She was condemned the moment her father was discovered to be the Shrike. You and I both know that.”

And he’s right. Abigail would only ever be swept up in the witch hunt, guilty or not, and hanged for crimes that were not hers.

Will leans away from Hannibal’s hand and picks the knife back up. Hannibal’s eyes follow the movement, but he doesn’t try to get away.

“What you are about to do,” he whispers, eyes shining as he reaches out, closing his hands around Will’s and bringing the tip of the blade to his chest, "do quickly.”

Will’s fingers twitch and he pulls the knife away from Hannibal, gripping it tightly as he grabs at his shirt, ripping it open to expose the wire he is wearing. He knows Jack is listening, and he knows they won’t have long once he cuts off the connection. He rips the wire off of him, pulling the small receiver from his pocket along with it. He bends the cord, sliding the knife under the loop and flicking his wrist harshly, slicing the wire in half with the blade. He drops it to the ground and sets the knife aside.

“You have two minutes,” he says. But what he means is  _ leave. Please leave. _

Hannibal does not move, only continues to regard Will with the same bittersweet smile.

Will’s breath feels stuck in his throat. “You’ve given up,” he says. “Why?”

Hannibal takes one of Will’s hands between both of his own, one of his thumbs rubbing along Will’s knuckles. “There is always some madness in love.” He presses a kiss to Will’s hand.

Will hears the roar of engines and the screech of sirens as FBI vehicles approach the house. He brings his free hand up to caress Hannibal’s cheek just as Hannibal had caressed his, then leans in and plants a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, one last symbol of his love and betrayal.

“But there is also always some reason in madness,” he whispers.

They spent a few short moments enjoying each other’s warmth and touch before the last bit of peace they have is broken by the sound of something banging against the front door. Will drowns out the voices of the men outside, only focused on Hannibal.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. “I thought… If I knew…”

Hannibal nods solemnly. “You will find the address to Abigail’s location amongst the sheet music on my harpsichord. Get to her before they do. Tell them I lied. Protect her.”

“I will.”

The wood of the door splinters and heavy footsteps rush through the house. Hannibal pulls away, placing his hands behind his head. 

Will mourns the warmth of his hands as it disappears from his fingers.

* * *

Will can’t watch as Hannibal is hauled out of the room. He leaves while the FBI deals with Hannibal, slipping into the living room and seeking out his harpsichord. He flips through the pages of sheet music set atop it, finding a small card with an address written on it in Hannibal’s perfectly elegant script. He tucks it into his pocket and returns to the dining room just in time to hear Jack calling out for him.

“Will! Where is Will Graham?”

“Right here, Jack,” Will shouts back. “I’m fine.” He’s not. He isn’t sure he ever will be.

“What happened?” Jack asks, rushing into the room, concern evident in his voice. His tone becomes more even when he asks, “What did he say when the connection cut?”

Will shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“He cut your fucking wire, Will, obviously—”

“It’s not admissible and it doesn’t matter,” Will insists.

Jack reluctantly drops the subject. “Kade wants to see you,” he says. “She was thinking you could help with the case and the interrogation—”

“No.”

Jack raises a brow. “Not tonight,” he amends.

“Not ever,” Will corrects. “I’m finished.”

“With this case?”

“With every case.”

Jack’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”

Irritated, Will pushes past him. “Find a new bloodhound,” he tells Jack. “I’m done. No more cases, no more lectures,  _ nothing _ . I don’t want anything else to do with the FBI.” His shoulders slump about halfway down the hall. He knows Jack is watching him. “I can’t do it anymore, Jack. I should have stopped with Elliot Buddish. I should have stopped with Georgia Madchen. I should have stopped after A—” His throat closes around her name.

Jack comes up behind Will and gently clasps his shoulder. “I’m sorry I pushed you,” he says. “But it’s not all bad. He said the Hobbs girl is still alive. We can go pick her up and—”

“And what?” Will snaps, whirling around to face Jack. “Arrest her? Put her on trial? Charge her with everything Hannibal’s done since she’s gone missing?”

Jack regards Will with a stern yet curious expression. “She may have helped Hannibal—”

“Well, that doesn’t matter,” Will says. “She’s dead. He lied.” The lie slips off his tongue so easily he’s shocked. His face falls, perfectly calculated sadness taking the place of his genuine anger. “He told me when he cut the wire, Jack. That was it. He wanted a private moment to laugh at me. He wanted to torture me alone one more time.”

Jack’s face softens. “Will…”

It takes everything Will can do to make the crack in his voice believable as he says, “Just let me go home.”

Jack swallows and clasps his shoulder once more, drawing back after a few moments. “Get some sleep tonight. And please, drive safely. I’m going to call you tomorrow to check on you, okay? Please just answer to let me know that you’re…” Jack purses his lips. “That you’re okay.”

Will nods slowly. “Yeah,” he replies, voice hollow. “Will do. Don’t freak out if I miss the phone a couple times, though, okay? I might sleep in. Or go fishing to clear my head. But I’ll be okay, I promise. I just… I need time.”

Jack nods in response, but as Will begins to leave, he says, “Will? One more thing. Just before the connection was lost, Hannibal said something. _ What you are about to do, do quickly. _ What did he mean by that?”

Genuine sadness clouds Will’s vision as he remembers Hannibal’s hands wrapped around his, guiding the knife to his chest. Hannibal had offered himself, wholly and completely, to Will and his mercy. It was the greatest display of vulnerability Will had seen from the man, who knew exactly what was coming, and the thought crushed Will.

“He knew,” is all he says. “He knew I came here tonight to catch him.”

Will turns away without bidding Jack goodbye, heading to his car with an almost pitiful gait. Nearly all of the FBI vehicles have cleared out, leaving Will alone in the driveway. He gets into his car, not wasting a moment as he starts the engine and backs out, leaving Hannibal’s house in his rearview mirror. He reaches the end of the street, stopping at a stop sign, and his facade melts away.

Will almost smiles as he pulls the piece of paper with Abigail’s address from his pocket, reading it off in his mind. He hums to himself and begins his drive back to Wolf Trap, turning off onto a side road halfway there, where he remains for a few minutes as he punches the address into his phone, sure that if Jack had anyone tailing him, they’re gone.

Nearly two hours later, Will is parking in the driveway of a house on the edge of a cliff, by the sea just as Hannibal had described. He can feel his entire body vibrating with anticipation, and even though he no longer doubts Hannibal’s truth, he wonders if this is all real. He approaches the door and knocks once, then twice.

Nothing.

Will presses his ear to the door, hearing soft footsteps rushing forward. He swallows.

“Abigail?” he calls out.

Silence. And then, “Will?”

Several locks click as they turn over, and Will steps back as the door opens, revealing Abigail Hobbs. His eyes widen.

“Abigail…”

Abigail throws herself at Will, a sob bubbling up in her throat. Will can feel tears dampening the front of his shirt, but the sensation doesn’t bother him. Everything else seems so far away right now. He holds Abigail tightly and cries into her hair.

“I missed you,” he chokes out. “I missed you so much, I— I thought he…”

“I missed you, too,” Abigail replies, burying her face further into Will’s shirt as if he’ll disappear the moment she loosens her hold on him. “I got so mad at him sometimes for lying to you.” She laughs, but it’s more bitter than amused. “They got him, didn’t they?”

Will’s chest tightens, a mixture of guilt and sorrow suffocating him. “Yeah,” he replies. “I didn’t… I didn’t know, Abigail. I—”

“I know. We had a long talk about it all. I understand, I think.” She looks up at Will. “But what now?”

Will brushes her hair back and kisses her forehead. “Now we go home. Jack and the rest of the Bureau will probably start looking for you tomorrow, so we need to stage a crime scene for them to find.”

“Hannibal was ahead of you with that,” Abigail says, stepping back so that Will can look into the house.

Everything he can see is a mess. Furniture is knocked over, blood splatters the floors and carpets, and a fine, wide trail of deep red leads out the door and over the rocks, dropping off the edge of the cliff. Abigail Hobbs is dead yet again.

“How long did he know?” Will asks shakily, emotion beginning to overtake him.

“A few days. He smelled Freddie on you, so he snuck around the Bureau. Heard whispers,” Abigail answers.

“And he let it happen,” Will breathes, still staring at the viscous black trail leading to the cliff’s edge, reflecting the pale moonlight above. “He’s so fucking stupid.”

Abigail smiles sadly and laces her fingers with Will’s. “What are you going to do about it?”

Will squeezes her hand. “We,” he corrects. “And think you know exactly what we’re going to do, Abigail.”

Abigail gives him a near-frightening grin, already so comfortable in her becoming. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, I do. But first, home?”

Will nods. “Home.”

They lock up the house, careful not to leave behind any trace evidence, and speed off into the night.

“You’re not the person you were before, Will,” Abigail suddenly says, watching the trees pass by in the darkness. “Not really. That Will Graham is dead.”

Will considers Abigail’s statement and hums. Finally, a smile stretches across his face, matching Abigail’s earlier one.

“Long live Will Graham."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story please leave a kudos! Comments are super appreciated! If you want to find/follow/friend me on other platforms, here are my usernames! Don’t be shy! 
> 
> @bisexywill on Tumblr (Main Blog)  
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> @bisexywill on Twitter (Writing Updates & Stuff)  
> @baby mongoose#6953 on Discord


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